


A God in the Radio

by here_we_go_taneenersing



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: 1920's Nightvale, AU, Carlos is a priest?, Cecil is a god?, Just stick with it, M/M, Villa de la Noche
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 18:00:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/here_we_go_taneenersing/pseuds/here_we_go_taneenersing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by a prompt from tumblr user mobius-path: "Carlos is a priest in the small village of Valle de la noche. On his 18th birthday, a third eye appears, briefly, on his forehead. In accordance with tradition, Carlos is taken to the temple to be sacrificed to the  god, Cecil. Before the knife is plunged into his chest, an eerie purple glow filled the room and a booming voice causes the candles to blow up. Carlos vanishes.  Carlos wakes up in Night Vale, an oddly futuristic ( circa 1920?? ) town. He doesn’t recognize anything except for the voice emanating from a small, strange box…"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tercer Ojo (Third Eye)

Carlos de la Rosa loved Villa de la Noche. Though too hot, though too small, though too peculiar for anyone else’s tastes, Villa de la Noche was the only place where the delicate and dark-skinned Carlo de la Rosa truly felt at home. It had been and would likely always be the dwelling place of his family—his father, and his father’s father, and his father’s father’s father, and many father’s fathers before him had lived in Villa de la Noche. And, like Carlos, each and every one of those men had presided over the tiny parsonage in the center of town as Villa de la Noche’s only priest. 

It truly gave Carlos happiness, serving as a priest for this town. The people in the town, though vastly peculiar, were sweet and pleasant. Some of them were, it seemed, even more religious than he! Old Woman Josefa believed that she was accompanied by three angels—one of whom was black. Good Old Woman Josefa.

Carlos woke on one pleasant autumn morning to the sun rising hesitantly over the hills. Just a few rays were peaking up and already the desert valley was hotter than is right. But he smiled, pushed back the pulsing in his forehead, and rolled up his sleeves as he walked from his home to the church. Today was his eighteenth birthday, after all. No sweeter day than his final ascension to manhood.

The congregation was empty, all but for the quiet monks in hoods of such a deep purple hue that they looked almost black. Carlos greeted them politely, though they did not return his greeting. He busied himself setting up for the day’s Mass, cleaning up at the podium. He felt the pulsing in his forehead returning, stronger this time and bordering on an ache. He gritted his teeth and carried on. Maybe some water would help.

He took a few steps away from the podium and his head started pounding even harder. He felt weaker and as he grasped for the clay pitcher of water near the podium, it slipped through his fingers and crashed against the floor. Thin, bright stars started flashing in his vision and he crumpled to the floor. 

 

" _Me ves, me tocas, me escuchas--me entiendes, me ves, me ves. Tú eres mío y nadie te tocará_ \--" A deep and resonant voice, smooth and reaching--big violet eyes, staring straight through everything—

Carlos saw and Carlos heard a million more things than he’d ever dreamt of. He blinked and he saw in triple vision. He blinked once more—and it was gone.

Carlos shivered and gasped. He felt too cold and too hot all at once. There was the tiny but consistent murmur of voices not far away. He looked up dizzily and was glad to not see triple.

"Tercer Ojo," the monks were murmuring repeatedly, drawing closer and closer to the young priest. "Tercer Ojo,Tercer Ojo,Tercer Ojo!"

"Tercer Ojo," Carlos repeated to himself in hushed tones. "I—my third eye?" His heart stopped for a moment, and then raced beyond what could be healthy. "No, no you must have been imagining it, I—I"

"Tercer Ojo, is tradition, Tercer Ojo, is tradition, Tercer Ojo, is tradition!"

And while he wasn’t watching, one of the monks grabbed a small idol from its alcove and slammed it against the back of his head. Blood leaked out into his perfect black curls and he passed out.


	2. Los Ojos de la Ama (The Eyes of the Soul)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every thousand years, a young person with a third eye is laid down before the high god of Ville de la Noche. And as a matter of ever-loving fact, that god was getting preeeeeeetty tired of it. And when he finds himself looking down into the most beautiful eyes in all of his creation, he simply can't continue on letting them die.

"Hello? H... hello?"  
Cecil watched over the young man as he woke and sat up on the stone pedestal. He looked around in sheer confusion, taking in the temple. The abundance of candles lining the walls, curtains made from violet damask hanging dangerously low above them. The scent of honey addled his already aching brain. Cecil had never been so concerned for one of his creations in his infinite life. And such a perfect creation it was that lay before him. Long and lean, with perfect dark eyes and delicate skin as brown as if it had been kissed all over by the sun. A perfect creation, marred and attacked by the monks that claimed to work on his behalf. The blood leaking from the perfect raven curls incensed the god.   
Cecil wasn't too keen on the practice of sacrificing those with third eyes. He chose them as those who would speak for him, _actually_ speak for him and hear him. But somewhere along the line, these monks had taken it awful hard and decided that the only thing to be done with those with third eyes was to sacrifice them to him. Now he had a house full of prophets' spirits and no way to communicate with the people he presided over. Well it was high time that it all stopped. This darling prophet would feel no pain. He reached down and, with ephemeral fingers, tenderly wiped the blood away. The young man stiffened for a moment, likely disturbed by the phantom touch, and then relaxed when he felt his pain fade out.  
"Hello?" he called. "Is someone there? I don't think I should be here. You've made a mistake!"  
Cecil pursed his lips tightly. The man was so anxious. He wanted to soothe him. And he didn't even know his name.  
"What is your name?" Cecil whispered softly. The man jumped and looked around in fear.  
"What? What? Who asked that?"  
"Be not afeard, young man. Just tell me--what is your name?"  
"C-C-Carlos," the man stammered. "Carlos de la Rosa."  
"Carlos," Cecil repeated lovingly. Carlos smiled, unexpectedly set at ease.  
"Yes," he replied. "And--and who are you?"  
Cecil smiled a mischievous smile. "I am everything and I am nothing, sweet Carlos," Cecil answered. "I am that which always has been and always will be. I have been seen by your father, and your father's father, and every father's father before him. I am the high god of Villa de la Noche." And with that, he reached his hand again and touched Carlos' forehead gently, reaching through his third eye and saw through the eyes of his gentle, warm soul.  
The inside of Carlos' soul was an unexpectedly warm space, Cecil acknowledged. Warm, he decided, and cozy. Some scent like clean cotton and fresh bread and stacks of paper wafted through the air. There wasn't really anything corporeal, but Cecil was aware of furniture with fluffy cushions and autumnal colors. Cecil looked around and saw Carlos standing absent-mindedly just a few feet away. "Carlos," he called softly. Carlos' eyes widened. "You--you're--you--"  
"Yes, Carlos," Cecil answered. "And you are one of my prophets. This third eye? It is a direct line of communication between the two of us." "But--but how?" "You were chosen, many many years ago. But do not fret, good Carlos." Cecil put his hand on Carlos' shoulder and the young man could do nothing but smile. "You will not die at the hands of these monks." "CARLOS DE LA ROSA."  
Carlos shivered and blinked wildly like a child waking from a deep dream. "The monks," he whispered. "They're coming for me."  
"No," Cecil said. "I will not let this pass." Clouds began to gather above the tiny church.  
Four monks descended on Carlos, one taking each of his limbs and holding him down. A fifth climbed atop the pedestal and pulled a knife from within his damson cloak.  
"No!" Cecil cried out. Thunder clapped in the sky above. "Do not touch him!"  
"Our god wishes it!" the monks cried, taking the violent storm suddenly brewing around them as a positive sign. The monk with the knife drew it high above his head. But as he swung down, a sound like the breaking of a mountain rang out. Carlos screamed aloud as his third eye blinked open, letting out a glowing purple light like a flashlight. The glow spread from his third eye as it overtook his forehead. The light blinded the priests and they fell, crying aloud in pain. The candles populating the room flared violently, torching the walls around them, and died.  
" _Él me escucha, me ve. Él me entiende. Él es mío y nadie lo tocara._ "

The priests cowered and fell silent at the voice of their god. Carlos, meanwhile, had ceased screaming. The pain in his head was still blinding, but he found the voice surrounding him to be a great comfort.  
" _Carlos, querido,_ " the voice said tenderly. He felt phantom arms pull him into a gentle hug. The touch brought him peace, and the pain in his head ebbed slowly away. " _I will bring you somewhere safe. There is a place, far and away, where none will harm you. And I will take you there._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish disclaimer. The author is fluent in French, not this.


	3. Oigo Dios en la Radio (I Hear God on the Radio)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos arrives in a very very odd town and is guided only by a strangely familiar voice.

" _You do something to me, something that simply mystifies me..._ No, no sweetheart, your right foot goes _back_... Like this, see... You follow me, I'm leading, I move us... _Dooo do that voodoo that you do so well..._ "  
"Am I doing this right, Eur?"  
"Well, no, sweet pea, but you're trying awfully hard and I think that's what counts--"  
"Oh boo you!"  
"Hush now, the both of you! Can't you see the boy is sleeping!"  
"Sorry Mama Josie."  
"Will one of you turn that record off?"  
"Yes, Miz Josie."  
Carlos tried to stay still as he heard socked footsteps slide across hardwood floors. He used his hands and very slowly felt around himself--a bed, maybe twice as big as his normal one--cotton sheets, wool quilt, down comforter--a thick pillow beneath his head--he smelled something warm and sweet cooking in the kitchen. His nose twitched instinctively and his mouth began to water; he groaned with want. He heard everyone in the room freeze.  
"I told you foolish children you'd wake him up," one of the voices hissed. Carlos tried to shrink as footsteps plodded in his direction. "Sweetheart?" He felt a gentle, weathered hand press against his shoulder. "It's alright."  
Carlos blinked open one eye, and then two. He sat up slowly and adjusted to the dappled light coming in through the curtains. He seemed to be in a corner of some sort--to his right was a wall, and to his left a doorway into a narrow hall. Stretching in front of him was a large living room with dark hardwood floors. The gramophone that the old lady had ordered into silence stood against one wall. A table and china cabinet were farther back--as if they had been pushed out of the way. Everything in the room, in fact, seemed as if it had been pushed out to make a clear space.  
"Hullo," the little old lady said softly, drawing Carlos' attention. "My name's Miz Josie. This is my grandaughter, Dana." She gestured to a smiling young woman with skin as dark as his own and eyes of a refreshing green. Her dark brown hair framed her face in a radically curly bob and she reached out a warm hand to shake Carlos'  
"Hey there, Sleeping Beauty," she laughed. There was music in her voice. "Good to see your eyes."  
"This is Euriah," Miz Josie continued. Carlos turned to look at Euriah, expecting an average man, and recoiled in horror. Sitting at the foot of his bed, one arm around Dana's hip, was something--an angel, maybe--glowing in an awesome purple light. His body was long and spindly; he wore a buttoned down shirt, a vest, and pants, but his exposed skin was of a deep ebony color. His eyes--all four of them--glowed with a clean white light. No pupils or irises interrupted the glow. He had no lips; instead, beneath his strong nose was a thin line. It opened up into a seemingly infinite whole as he said in a ringing, holy voice: "Hey, man. You're awake."  
Carlos cried out and scooted back on his bed. "Wha-wha-what are you?" he yelled, pointing at Euriah. He blinked once, and then glanced at Old Woman Josie.  
"Dana, child, go fix this boy a plate," Josie said, shooing Dana away. "He's starving."

"But, Mama Josie--"  
"Child, I said _go._ "  
Reluctantly, Dana stood and left in the direction of the kitchen. When she left, Josie turned to Carlos.  
"So you can see Euriah," she said solemnly.  
"Of course!" Carlos cried. "Can't you?"  
"Well, I can," Josie agreed, "but most others can't. Euriah is an angel."  
At the foot of his bed, Euriah shrugged nonchalantly. "True. I wear a glamour so that I can travel through here freely and be seen. My brothers choose to make no such... condescension."  
"Brothers?"  
"Elas and Elysha," Euriah answered. "The other two angels assigned to this town. They have, um, no great amount of affinity for the people in this town. They don't see the need to walk among them."  
"Where are they now?" Carlos asked, looking around frantically.  
"In the kitchen, avoiding you like the plague," Euriah answered honestly. "They know where you are and where you're from." He glanced at Old Woman Josie, who nodded and stood up.  
"Dana, girl, how long does it take to put food on a plate?" She toddled away to the kitchen. Euriah stood and sat closer to Carlos, who did his best not to shrink back.  
"Look, friend," Euriah sighed. There was an unanticipated note of resignation in his voice. "I know who you are. The third eye, purple priests, whole shebang. Cecil put you here to keep you safe. You can do whatever you want here, but please, for the love of it all, _don't get into any trouble._ Not just for your own sake. The ones of us put down here to protect you have actual lives to lead. You getting yourself in deep with any of the crazy stuff in this town would sure wreck a man's plans. Understand? Stay out of trouble here."  
"But where's _here_?" Carlos cried.  
"Nightvale!" Euriah replied. "As Cecil likes to say, 'A friendly desert community where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and lights--'" Euriah paused. "Um, lights twinkle brighter than ever!"  
"So, Cecil--the god, Cecil--picked me up and put me in the middle of the desert?"  
"Um... Well yeah, yeah that's safely it."  
Carlos flopped back against his pillow. "Why?"  
"I'm assuming there was something about you he liked?" Euriah offered, passing a hand over his forehead. "Look, I'm not here to analyze. I'm here to lead my life and protect you if you put yourself in danger. I am about ninety-nine point nine percent occupied with the lead-my-life part so if you could keep the putting-yourself-in-danger thing to less than .01 of my life, that would be stellar." He stood and, with a genial smile, clapped Carlos on the shoulder. "And work on turning off your third eye. It'll make life in this town a good deal easier for you."  
Euriah took a few steps away but halted and turned back. His genial smile had dropped away and was replaced by a look that made Carlos cower away. The light in Euriah's glow-white eyes was nearly blinding. He gripped Carlos' shoulder and leaned into his ear. "And if you say one word to Dana about any of this," Euriah whispered menacingly, "Cecil or no Cecil, it will be your last word." He smiled and released Carlos. "Good boy."  
Carlos shivered as he watched Euriah turn on his heel and walk away. An angel? And Nightvale? Sent to protect him--Cecil? Carlos felt like his brain was overheating. Starry spots were flickering in front of him, and no amount of blinking was clearing them from his vision. A sudden pounding took up in the center of his forehead and Carlos knew what was coming next--cracking pain, triple vision, phantom noises, disturbing voices--  
" _Well, listeners, wasn't yesterday's storm a doozy? I've never seen lightning like that! Of course, I've never seen lightning before. Station Management generally does not allow it._ "  
Carlos sat up quickly, and it was like the symptoms of his pain dropped away. It was that voice, that familiar voice, coming from somewhere--who knows where? He swung his legs out of the bed and hesitantly touched foot to the cold hardwood floor. Eventually he stood and walked towards the living room as the voice continued speaking.  
" _In other news, I haven't seen Intern Dana in quite some time. I'm quite worried that she has gone missing. I stopped by her apartment and her childhood home; her parents said she was 'with her grandmother,' but that's impossible. No one has a grandmother. No. One._ "  
Carlos stopped at the far side of the living room. Just below a large window rested a cabinet; atop that cabinet was a peculiar little box, made of oak and metal mesh, and out of it was coming a very familiar voice...

"Miss Josie?" he yelled. "This box! What is it?" Josie tottered in with a full plate in her hands. Uriah and Dana followed, one arm wrapped protectively around her waist. "That?" Josie laughed. "Why, darlin, that's the radio! And that's Cecil--Cecil Baldwin. He runs the radio station." "Cecil--" Carlos choked out. Uriah glanced at him sharply and he fell silent. "Oh."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um hey if you wanna ask me questions about this story you can drop stuff off in my askbox at taneeners-today-and-tomorrow.tumblr.com yes i am on the tumboblr and it will likely be the quickest way to find out if I've updated GitR :D
> 
> Sorry this one ended a little weirdly I'm trying to work on something and everything's kinda vague. It's vague. Things are vague. I'm sorry. 
> 
> Next chapter won't be for a while. I have work/rehearsal/classes et al


	4. Reina Y Sus Angeles (The Queen and Her Angels)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos wakes up and demands to put a few puzzle pieces together; Euriah gets punished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I'm so sorry I haven't updated in so long? School and work got really really intense for a while there.

There are eyes, wide eyes, childlike and yet ancient, infinite and present, violet like a sunset after a forest fire, blinking--  
There's a voice, deep and soothing, the only sound that matters, the only sound that I can here when I am here--  
"Carlos, Carlos my love, sweet and perfect Carlos, Carlos, Carlos, Carlos--"  
And it keeps repeating my name, like a prayer, _como una oracion_ , like it's holy and sacred, no one has ever said my name with such reverence, who is calling my name like this--  
"Me, my sweet Carlos, it's me--it's me--come to me--"  
I want to get up, I want to go to him, but there's something in my way, there's something--there's something _stopping me--_  
Not something, someone _, someone--_  
Different eyes, oaky brown, warm and simple, human, smiling, nothing hollow, nothing frightening, just the sweet stare, just the dimpled smile, just the voice with the music in it, just that someone--but who?  
Who?  
"...Who? Wh... who? Who?"  
"Carlos? Carlos, are you okay?"  
"Huh?"  
Carlos sat up groggily, sleep still settled in his eyes. His cheeks were hot and his skin didn't feel altogether real. When he opened his eyes, he saw Dana watching over him with concerned eyes.  
"Carlos," she murmured, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. "You were tossing back and forth and groaning like a dying man. Are you alright?"  
Carlos sighed and leaned into Dana's hand. "I--I think it was just a dream," he whispered. "I, uh, I don't know." He pressed his hands to Dana's and leaned further. "Dana. Purple eyes."  
"Carlos, I think you need some water," Dana said. "Your forehead's hot."  
"No, no, no," Carlos insisted. "Purple eyes. This town. Who. _Who_?"  
"Who _what,_ sweetie?"  
"Who has them!" he cried. "Who has--purple eyes?" Still holding Dana's hand, he fell back on the bed. "You've--got to tell me." "Um... Cecil, I think," Dana said after a short pause. Carlos shot up and grabbed Dana by her shoulders. "Cecil!?" he cried. "Cecil. Who?" "Um, Cecil Baldwin? My boss. He runs the radio station."

"The radio," Carlos repeated, still barely there. He pointed across the room at the brown box on the parlor table. "That thing." He slowly pulled himself from bed and stumbled over to it. "Cecil is in here. He speaks through here."  
"Well," Dana sighed. "Technically he's downtown at the station. But yes, he does speak through the radio."  
"I've got to meet him," Carlos demanded, cradling the radio intently in his hands.  
"Why?"  
"I had a dream," Carlos answered. "About a man. With a voice. And with purple eyes. And if I go talk to Cecil--maybe he'll have some answer as to why I'm here."  
"Alright," Dana agreed. "I'll take you to him. But first, you're going to get out of those pajamas, take a shower, and put on some real clothes. And I'll make you something you can eat when you get out."

Across town, Euriah was attacking the pavement with his steps. Cecil had called him in for a "talk," and, as much as he was afraid, he was also massively irritated. So what, Euriah had said some snide things to Cecil's Most Mystical Chosen Boy Toy. The dewy-eyed dork had almost ruined things for him and Dana. The situation was tenuous--everyone _but_ her knew that he was an angel, and it was certainly going to stay that way, Carlos-the-bright-eyed-freak be damned.  
Euriah arrived at the news station and pulled the door open sharply, with enough force to almost pull it off its hinges. "Cecil?" he yelled. "I'm here!"  
"Eu-ri-ah," Cecil said softly. His rich voice made Euriah shudder. "I'm glad you could make it." Euriah looked around, but he couldn't spot his otherworldly boss. "Let's have a little chat, shall we?"  
"What do you want, Cecil?" Euriah growled. "I'm sorry I threatened your most precious pretty boy. He was going to make things difficult. I won't do it again."  
"Well, that's good to hear, Euriah," Cecil said. "But there's other matters at hand."  
"Oh?" Euriah said, his voice cracking. "Like what?"  
"Dana, as a matter of fact," Cecil answered. "You're keeping her from work. She's keeping you from focusing on Carlos. As a matter of fact, you're getting all too familiar with her. Need I remind you what your purpose is in Nightvale? Certainly not seducing my interns."  
"I'm not _seducing_ Dana," Euriah barked. "It's entirely consensual. And she's playing coy anyway. You needn't remind me of anything."  
"Are you sure, Euriah? Because I feel as if you're forgetting what happened the last time you played with a citizen." Cecil paused for a moment. "Or, shall I say, who."  
"That was an accident," Euriah said through gritted teeth. He stepped forward and glared into the darkness in front of him. "That was an accident and you _know it._  
"What's to say the same kind of accident won't happen with Dana?" Cecil teased. "Nephilim are easier conceived than carried."  
"You shut your mouth, Cecil Baldwin, or I swear to the high heavens I will go down to Dana's right now and smite the shit out of your little--"  
" ** _SILENCE,_** " Cecil thundered. The walls and windows shook. "You will not place a hand on Carlos. You will not threaten him. You will dedicate your foreseeable future to protecting Carlos. And most importantly, you will _cease speaking to my intern._ Do you understand?"  
"What's to make me?" Euriah laughed. His laughter faded almost instantly as a bright white light filled the room, blinding and burning him. He screamed aloud but it was lost in some great roaring sound. The light ebbed away and Euriah was left on his knees, smoke coming off his body.  
"I'm to make you," Cecil whispered. "Now get out."

**Author's Note:**

> Please pardon any bad Spanish. I spent five years on a different romance language. All Spanish is provided to me by Google translate and mobius-path.


End file.
